


better together

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:52:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Combeferre starts dating Grantaire, Enjolras realizes that he has feelings for him as well. Or maybe both of them. He's really not so sure about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	better together

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic basically started with a prompt I got on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/) a while ago.
> 
> If you've been following the fic there and don't want to read it all again, you can scroll down to read the rest that I didn't put on the blog. I didn't add anything new to the first couple of parts, I just made a few minor changes here and there.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who sent prompts!

Enjolras sighed and tried very hard to concentrate on the essay he needed to finish. It didn’t really work out, though, because he could hear Combeferre laughing in the other room, he could hear Grantaire say something, then there was more laughter, and all Enjolras could do was groan and pillow his head on the open book in front of him, desperately wishing for some earplugs to fall from the skies.

It wasn’t like he minded that Combeferre had a boyfriend now.

Admittedly, it was strange that Combeferre went out on dates and asked Enjolras what to wear and that he sometimes wasn’t at home in the morning to have breakfast with him. Their apartment was too quiet at times, but Enjolras could deal with that.

He didn’t mind that it was Grantaire that Combeferre was going out with, really, Enjolras liked Grantaire well enough, even though they disagreed on every topic under the sun, and even though Grantaire had a tendency to overdo it with his drinking at times, he made Combeferre happy and that should be good enough for Enjolras.

Still, there was something that felt off. Enjolras wasn’t sure what it was, but every time he saw Combeferre and Grantaire together, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. It kept bugging him and the fact that he just couldn’t figure out what it was made it even worse.

He saw them together a lot, so that uneasy feeling never really went away. He saw them at his and Combeferre’s apartment, curled up on the couch, he saw them in the kitchen, making breakfast together, he saw them stumble in and out of Combeferre’s room, he saw them when they went out together with their friends and when they all met up at the Musain. It was incredibly hard to avoid them.

“Enjolras?” Courfeyrac said one night, nudging him with his elbow as he leaned closer. “You look sort of… sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Enjolras said immediately, turning to look at Courfeyrac. “It’s just strange,” he added lowly.

Courfeyrac frowned. “What’s strange?”

Enjolras shrugged, looked around to see if anyone was within earshot and then vaguely nodded into the direction of where Combeferre and Grantaire were sitting. After the official part of their meeting had come to an end, Combeferre had joined Grantaire at his usual table, had given him a kiss to say hello and now they were laughing and holding hands and Enjolras could tell that Jehan thought that they were absolutely adorable, which they were, objectively speaking, but that weird feeling that Enjolras always got when he saw them together was back with a vengeance.

“Combeferre and Grantaire are strange?” Courfeyrac asked, looking vaguely amused now. “Because they are sickeningly cute?”

“No, it’s just… every time I see them together, it’s… strange.” Enjolras shrugged. He really had no idea how to explain and it wasn’t that important anyway. “I’m probably just not used to them being together yet.”

“Enjolras, they’ve been going out for three months,” Courfeyrac said, staring at him intently.

Well, it wasn’t like Enjolras didn’t know that. “It’ll go away.”

“ _What_ will go away?” Courfeyrac asked.

“That… strange feeling.”

Courfeyrac sighed. “Enjolras,” he whined.  He reached out, his fingers curling around his arm. “Are you jealous?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper now.

“No, I’m not jealous,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. “Why would I be jealous?”

“It does happen to all kinds of people,” Courfeyrac mumbled. “When you see them, what exactly is it that you feel, don’t think about it, just say it. Tell me what you think.”

“I don’t know, I just want to-” Enjolras clamped his hands over his mouth. He wanted Grantaire kiss him and hold his hand and laugh at what he said – and that was a _horrible_ thought. “I have to go,” he muttered, jumped up and hurried out the café before Courfeyrac had time to figure out what he’d been about to say.

No one could know and Enjolras needed to forget about this. Quickly.

The next time he came across Courfeyrac, he got a ten minute long hug from him, but he didn’t bring up Grantaire and Combeferre and Enjolras was thankful for it.

Enjolras made an effort to stay away from them as best as he could, tried not to be too obvious about his feelings, and focused on hating himself for wanting what he wanted. Sometimes it was inevitable, sometimes he saw Grantaire wander out of Combeferre’s room in the morning, sometimes he came across them while they were watching a movie in the living room – horizontally.

Sometimes he wanted to say something, wanted to tell Combeferre, because there’d never been anything he couldn’t tell him.

But Combeferre was his best friend and if Enjolras had to keep this one thing to himself to make sure it stayed that way, he would. He couldn’t just say, “I’m sorry, but I think I’m in love with your boyfriend.” It wouldn’t be fair.

So when he wandered into their kitchen in the morning and found Combeferre flipping pancakes, humming lowly, Enjolras accepted a plate from him with a smile and never said a word.

* * *

“Do you want to order pizza tonight?”

Enjolras looked up from his book and found Combeferre standing in the doorway. “Aren’t you going out with Grantaire tonight?” Enjolras asked. Combeferre was always going out with Grantaire lately, so it actually wasn’t that bad of a guess.

Combeferre shook his head. “So, pizza?”

“Pizza is fine,” Enjolras said, smiling at him before he picked up his book again. He resumed reading for another fifteen minutes or so, then he put it back down, followed Combeferre into the living room and sat down next to him on the couch.

“Hello there, stranger,” Combeferre said, a smile playing around his lips.

Enjolras frowned. “You saw me this morning. And last night. And… we see each other every day.”

“I know,” Combeferre said. “It’s just that…” He trailed off, obviously thinking.

“Yes?” Enjolras prompted. He knew exactly what this was about. Every time Grantaire came over, every time he saw Combeferre and Grantaire together, he made a point in not sticking around for too long. It was self-preservation, really.

“Look,” Combeferre said, sitting up, “I know you and Grantaire don’t always get along very well, but I thought you guys were friends. I just don’t understand why you won’t give him a chance.” Combeferre gave him a stern look. “And don’t say you don’t mind that I’m dating him, because I know you do.”

“I don’t mind that you’re dating Grantaire, honestly,” Enjolras said. He wanted Combeferre to be happy and he wanted Grantaire to be happy, too, he just didn’t want to drive himself into total despair by hanging out with them too much. At least not until he got over this ridiculous crush.

“Something clearly bothers you,” Combeferre said, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing bothers me,” Enjolras grumbled. “I just have a lot of work to do.”

“You do not.” Combeferre sighed, took of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose – a clear sign that he was agitated, but Enjolras could hardly tell him the truth. “Enjolras,” Combeferre continued, “whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“It’s nothing, I swear,” Enjolras said. “Maybe I’m just having a bad week.”

“More like _weeks_ ,” Combeferre muttered. “I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about things anymore just because I’m dating Grantaire. I’m still your friend, I care about what’s going on in your life.”

“I know that,” Enjolras said insistently. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Combeferre smiled disarmingly. “I just can’t help it sometimes. Seriously, though, I know you’re not big on talking sometimes, but let me know if there’s anything you do want to talk about.”

“I will,” Enjolras mumbled. “I promise.”

Combeferre was about to reply when the doorbell rang. He got up to open the door and then returned with two cartons of pizza, one of which he handed to Enjolras.

Enjolras devoured half of his pizza in silence, thinking about what he could say to Combeferre to appease him. Maybe he should ask him about Grantaire. Show interest. Quite frankly, he was interested, but at the same time he wanted to know as little as possible about how incredibly happy they were together.

It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to be jealous, he just couldn’t really help it. Still, it made him feel like a terrible person.

Enjolras sighed. “So,” he asked, against his better judgement, “how are things with Grantaire anyway?”

Combeferre blinked at him in confusion for a few seconds, but quickly caught himself. “Things are going great.”

“That’s, um, nice?” Enjolras said. He really had no idea how to do this. He wouldn’t even know how to do this if Combeferre was dating someone else. “I’m sorry, I do care about your happiness and all that, I just don’t know how to…”

Combeferre grinned. “Thanks for trying.”

“You’re welcome,” Enjolras mumbled and picked up another slice of pizza.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Combeferre asked after a while. “Or do you need to get back to your book?”

“I guess I can leave it until tomorrow,” Enjolras said and went to pick out a DVD. He grabbed a blanket on his way back and wrapped it around himself as he sat back down.

Enjolras fell asleep about ten minutes into the movie and didn’t wake up until it was nearly over. He must have slid down the couch, or maybe Combeferre had tugged him into a more comfortable position, but now his head was pillowed in Combeferre’s lap and Enjolras really didn’t feel like moving.

He sighed and forced himself to sit up, nearly head-butting against Combeferre’s chin. “Sorry,” Enjolras mumbled, carelessly blowing a loose curl out of his eyes only for it to fall back again.

“No worries,” Combeferre said and tucked the strand of hair behind Enjolras’ ear. He held his gaze for a moment and Enjolras found himself thinking about leaning in just a little more. Only for a second, but it was enough to shock Enjolras back into complete awareness.

He quickly shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. He clearly hadn’t been awake just now. “I should go to bed,” he mumbled and quickly jumped off the couch. “Goodnight, ‘Ferre.”

“Goodnight,” Combeferre mumbled. If he was confused about Enjolras’ weird behavior, he did a good job at hiding it.

Enjolras escaped to his room as fast as he could, completely horrified. He needed to get a grip on this situation – whatever it was.  

The next morning he managed to avoid Combeferre by getting up ridiculously early and going to Courfeyrac’s before the lecture they had together. “You need to help me,” Enjolras said as soon as Courfeyrac had opened the door for him. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Okay?” Courfeyrac said. He wasn’t wearing pants yet, but his hair was already perfect as always. He took Enjolras by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen, where he poured him a cup of coffee. “What’s wrong?”

Enjolras stared down at his coffee, not sure what to say. He’d come to Courfeyrac, because he was who everyone went to for relationship advice, but Enjolras didn’t like to talk about his feelings. So he didn’t. It was none of anyone’s business anyway and even though Enjolras usually didn’t have problems putting his thoughts into words, he did when it came to his feelings.

“Do you need a hug?” Courfeyrac asked, reaching out hesitantly.

Enjolras didn’t answer, but didn’t protest when Courfeyrac pulled him against his chest either.

“Is this about…” Courfeyrac paused and pulled away again, giving him a look. “You-know-who?” he whispered. “And I don’t mean Lord Voldemort.”

“It’s not about him,” Enjolras said.

“Okay, do you want me to keep guessing?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Hypothetically,” Enjolras started, “do you think that it’s possible to like two people at the same time?”

“Oh, sure,” Courfeyrac said, nodding as if that happened to him all the time.

Enjolras hummed. He wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t even sure what the hell was going on with him. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Or it just means you’re getting over Grantaire,” Courfeyrac said with a shrug. He grinned. “Who’s the other guy?”

“No one,” Enjolras grumbled. It wasn’t like there was another guy. Not really.

Courfeyrac put an arm around his shoulder. “Oh, come on, tell Uncle Courf. Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t,” Enjolras mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ridiculous and you wouldn’t… I don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Please, it’s _me_ you’re talking to, it can’t be that ridiculous. Is it someone I know?”

Enjolras didn’t reply.

“So it is. You know, I can’t think of any guy– wait, is it _another_ guy who’s already in a relationship? Because that would be a tiny bit ridiculous.”

Once again, Enjolras didn’t answer, but obviously he didn’t have to. Courfeyrac seemed to do pretty well, guessing himself through this conversation.

“Who is it?” Courfeyrac asked, tilting his head. “We don’t know that many people who are in a relationship.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Courfeyrac looked at him intently, searching for something that he seemed to find only moments later. “Oh no,” he whispered. “It’s not Combeferre.” Enjolras remained silent. “It _is_ Combeferre,” Courfeyrac said, looking a little desperate now. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Enjolras.”

“It’s not like I _like_ him, there just was… a moment,” Enjolras said quietly.

“A moment,” Courfeyrac echoed. “What kind of moment?”

Enjolras bit his lip. This conversation wasn’t getting any less ludicrous. “You know, one of those moments… that always happen in the movies.”

“You mean like a _oh hey we’re about to snog_ moment?” Courfeyrac asked, his eyes going wide.

“Something like that,” Enjolras replied. It wasn’t like he had a lot of experience when it came to this sort of thing. But that description came pretty close to what it had felt like.

“Holy shit,” Courfeyrac whispered.

* * *

Enjolras was in hell. He was in hell and there was no way for him to escape. Really, it was his own fault that he’d ended up where he was now, but still.

He’d wanted to spend the evening planning their next meeting at the Musain, he’d wanted to order pizza and he’d wanted to eat ice cream. Granted, he’d got the pizza and the ice cream, but he was still in hell, so neither the pizza nor the ice cream had been particularly enjoyable.

Grantaire had come over unannounced earlier, had asked Combeferre if he wanted to have dinner and then the two of them had practically forced him to go have dinner with them because they’d been worried that he’d starve. They’d said it jokingly, of course, but Enjolras had still been a little offended. He was perfectly capable of ordering food.

That was what he’d told Combeferre and Grantaire, too. Then they’d insisted on taking him to the Italian place down the street. Enjolras loved the Italian place down the street, but he didn’t love it when he was forced to go there with a couple that kept making eyes at each other across the table.

Not that they were doing it excessively, it was just that Enjolras couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. He wasn’t even sure what he was jealous about anymore, because he liked seeing them together – they just worked so well together.

Anyway, that had been the beginning of his descent into hell.

Now he was sitting on the couch, not only with Combeferre and Grantaire, but also _between_ them. He’d meant to go hide in his room after the three of them had got back to his and Combeferre’s apartment, but he’d somehow let them talk him into watching a movie with them.

“Come on,” Grantaire had said and had gently pushed him into the living room, “just have a little fun for once.”

“But I wanted to-”

Grantaire had rolled his eyes. “It’s Saturday evening, do you really want to sit around in your room all by yourself?”

“Yes, I do,” Enjolras had answered, although that had been the most blatant lie he’d told all evening. It wasn’t like he wanted to be alone, he just didn’t want to subject himself to this kind of torture any longer.

Long story short, after another five minutes of squabbling, he’d ended up on the couch with Grantaire. Combeferre had got them all some ice cream and had sat down next to Enjolras instead of next to Grantaire. And that was where Enjolras was stuck now.

He nearly stomped out of the room when Grantaire started making faces at Combeferre halfway through the movie, but eventually decided to simply close his eyes so he didn’t have to deal with this anymore.

It worked pretty well for him until he actually fell asleep and woke up again with his head resting on Grantaire’s shoulder.

Enjolras bolted upright instantly. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Grantaire only snorted. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

“I should probably go to bed,” Enjolras mumbled and scrambled to his feet. “Goodnight, guys.”

Combeferre and Grantaire both bid him goodnight in unison, then Enjolras slinked off to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

He wrapped himself in a couple of blankets since it was freezing in his room, grabbed the book that he’d started reading about half a year ago and that he hadn’t touched in about five months, and started reading.

Enjolras heard Combeferre and Grantaire padding down the hall shortly after midnight, heard Combeferre’s door click shut, followed by quiet laughing. The apartment was blessedly quiet after that, and since his eyes were starting to hurt, Enjolras put down the book and turned off the lights.

He didn’t fall asleep right away, though, and kept staring into the darkness for a long while until he finally drifted off to sleep.

When Enjolras woke up in the morning, he felt like he’d been run over by a truck. He groaned and immediately pulled on sweatpants and his warmest sweater. He felt even colder than the night before. Maybe their heating was broken.

He slowly padded down the hall to the kitchen and found Grantaire, only clad in a pair of boxers, cooking eggs and bacon.

“Jesus, can’t you put on a shirt?” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Why, does my hot body make you uncomfortable?”

It was obviously meant to sound sarcastic, but that was actually really Enjolras’ problem. He let out a huff. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No, it’s not that cold,” Grantaire muttered, turning around and frowning at him. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’re getting sick.”

Enjolras shook his head. He didn’t get sick. Ever.

“Are you sure?” Grantaire asked and walked over to him, looking worried. He reached out, probably to feel Enjolras’ forehead, but Enjolras batted his hand away. “Christ, stop being such a baby,” Grantaire grumbled.

“I’m not…” He trailed off when Grantaire felt his temperature, shivering a little.

“Yeah, you’re going back to bed,” Grantaire said, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to his feet. “Go on, I’ll make you some tea.”

“I’m not sick,” Enjolras protested as Grantaire walked him down the hall, where they ran into Combeferre, who was thankfully wearing a shirt. “I’m not,” he said pointedly when Combeferre raised his eyebrows at him. “Really, I’m just cold.” And maybe he had a little headache and maybe his throat was hurting a bit. But that didn’t mean that he was sick.

He had to endure Combeferre and Grantaire bringing him tea and soup and he kept telling them that he was fine until he eventually lost his voice. Then all he could do was glare at them, which they seemed to find amusing for some reason.

Grantaire left later that day and Combeferre came to sit next to him, reading him the news until he fell asleep.

And Enjolras really wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this, but when he woke up again later in the evening he was curled around Combeferre, who was still sleeping and snoring quietly. He knew he should move, like he had when he’d accidentally fallen asleep leaning against Grantaire, but every bone in his body was hurting and although he felt guilty about it, he stayed right where he was, wrapped around Combeferre.

* * *

“How’s it going?” Courfeyrac whispered as he sat down next to Enjolras. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m alright,” Enjolras replied with a shrug. “It was just a cold.”

“I know,” Courfeyrac said. “That’s not what I meant. How’s it going with Combeferre and Grantaire?”

Enjolras scowled. He should have known that this was coming. “What are you talking about?” he asked lowly. Telling Courfeyrac about his, well, emotional challenges had been a huge mistake. A huge, horrendous mistake. But the second he’d felt better, he’d felt like he needed to get out of the apartment and Courfeyrac’s had seemed like a pretty good place to go.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, stop pretending that you weren’t complaining about how much you hate seeing them together less than twenty-four hours ago,” Courfeyrac said and poked him in the ribs.

Enjolras winced, then he slammed his book shut. “First of all, you’re exaggerating,” Enjolras hissed. “Second of all, would you stop talking about this? We’re in public.”

“There’s no one here,” Courfeyrac said, looking around the Musain. “No one cares, see, that dude over there only cares about his apple pie.”

“Still,” Enjolras insisted.

“Aw, come on, your polyamorous tendencies are endearing, tell me more,” Courfeyrac said, thankfully keeping his voice low now.

“I’ve already told you everything,” Enjolras grumbled. Anyway, talking about it would do no good.

Courfeyrac made a face. “But what are you gonna do about it?”

“I’ve considered moving to Siberia,” Enjolras deadpanned. He sighed and shoved his textbook back into his backpack. “Well, I should head home soon, I was in a hurry and forgot to bring my laptop, but there’s an essay I really need to finish.”

Courfeyrac only stared at him with narrowed eyes for a couple of seconds. “You ran away because they were making out on the couch again, didn’t you?”

“In the kitchen,” Enjolras corrected. “They should be done by now.”

“Yeah, they’ve probably moved it to the bedroom,” Courfeyrac said, winking at him which a much too cheerful expression.

Courfeyrac spent the next half hour telling him that he couldn’t hide at the Musain forever, although Enjolras thought that it was definitely worth a try. When Courfeyrac started talking about how well Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta seemed to be doing together, Enjolras decided that it was definitely time for him to leave now.

When he unlocked the door of his and Combeferre’s apartment, it was strangely quiet inside. Maybe, hopefully, Courfeyrac had been wrong and they hadn’t moved it to the bedroom after all. Maybe Grantaire had gone home. Maybe Enjolras would finally finish his essay.

He toed off his shoes, noting that Grantaire’s ratty Converse were still there as well, and found himself faced with Grantaire himself when he looked up again.

“Back from the library?” Grantaire asked as he walked down the hall, once again shirtless.

“Are you allergic to shirts?” Enjolras asked in turn, stomping off to his room, neither waiting for a reply nor telling Grantaire that he’d actually never gone to the library.

Enjolras managed to get most of his essay done, ignored that his stomach was starting to rumble halfway through, and was actually rather pleased with the outcome in the end. He was just about to add a few things here and there when there was a tentative knock on his door.

“What?” he asked, looking up when the door opened a few inches.

Grantaire was peering inside, his blue eyes wide. “Are you still working?”

Enjolras only gave a non-committal grunt in reply.

“Combeferre is on the phone with his tutor and that might take a while,” Grantaire said, eyeing Enjolras’ laptop.

Enjolras was about to tell him that he really wasn’t here to babysit Combeferre’s boyfriend, but then reminded himself that being rude to Grantaire wouldn’t help at all, so he only bit his lip.

“Do you mind if I come in for a bit?” Grantaire asked, opening the door a little further. “I can help you with whatever you’re working on. Is it for a meeting?”

“It’s not like you care about our meetings,” Enjolras mumbled and quickly closed his laptop. Only that Grantaire was probably the only person who’d never missed a single one of their meetings. Even Enjolras had missed one once, but as far as he knew Grantaire had been there every time.

Grantaire only let out a huff and flopped down on Enjolras’ bed, leaning against the headboard, his legs stretched out. “By the way, I put on a shirt, just for you.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Enjolras muttered.

“Can I ask you something?” Grantaire asked. “And don’t say _you just did_.”

“Go ahead,” Enjolras said, not really sure what to expect.

“Okay,” Grantaire muttered. “Well,” he continued, leaning forward a little, “I know that you don’t like me. I know that you don’t like it that Combeferre and I are dating, but I’m honestly trying so hard, seriously, what can I do so you’ll stop hating me this much. I really like him, Enjolras, but he cares so much about what you think, so please tell me what I can do. I mean except from putting on shirts.”

“You’re not… I don’t…” Enjolras shook his head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“But-”

“No, I’m serious,” Enjolras interrupted. “I told Combeferre and I’m telling you, it’s fine, I’m fine with the two of you dating. I just don’t like finding my best friend and his boyfriend making out leaning against my kitchen counter. Or on my couch. Horizontally.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, we didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” Grantaire mumbled. “But it’d really be okay if you told me, you know? I can take it. If you think I’m not good enough for Combeferre or something, honestly, it’s not like the same thing hasn’t occurred to me already.”

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s Combeferre. He deserves someone who’s… not me.”

“Don’t say that.” Grantaire always talked like that and Enjolras absolutely hated it. True, Enjolras had said some harsh things to Grantaire, but he’d hardly ever meant them, he’d only said them because he’d been angry and it made him even angrier when Grantaire tried to put himself down. “You’re good enough.”

Grantaire only blinked at him, obviously at a loss for words.

“You make him happy,” Enjolras went on.

“Are you…” Grantaire cleared his throat. “Are you feeling okay? Because you’re saying nice things to me and that’s… a bit weird.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes at him. “Of course I’m feeling okay,” he snapped.

“Okay, just checking,” Grantaire said, smiling now. He leaned back again, picking up Enjolras’ favorite pillow, hugging it to his chest. “Thanks, I guess?”

Enjolras tried to smile back at him and then turned back to his laptop, looking at Grantaire over his shoulder. “Do you mind if I finish this?”

“Not at all,” Grantaire mumbled, “I’ll just sit here and read this.” He picked up one of the textbooks that were piling up on Enjolras’ bedside table and started to read.

When Enjolras turned back around again, Grantaire was fast asleep, curled up on his side, the book still open next to him. Enjolras groaned quietly and went to put the book back where it belonged, looking down at Grantaire for a couple of seconds. He looked so different when he was asleep, so peaceful with the cynical smirk gone.

After an internal debate that lasted nearly five minutes, Enjolras eventually decided that there was no harm in sitting down next to him. He fetched his laptop and made himself comfortable, always keeping a careful distance.

Combeferre came over to his room not much later, laughing quietly when he found Grantaire sleeping next to Enjolras. It was a mystery to Enjolras what exactly was so funny about this, quite frankly this wasn’t funny at all, but it seemed to amuse Combeferre for some reason.

“What are you working on?” Combeferre whispered as he sat down next to Enjolras, glancing at his laptop screen. “Homework?”

“Yes, I’m nearly done, though,” Enjolras told him. “Did you come to pick up Grantaire?”

Combeferre shrugged. “I suppose he’s fine right where he is, I don’t really want to wake him up.”

“Well, I’m not planning on going to bed for a while,” Enjolras mumbled.

“Alright, I’ll just get a book, then.”

It took less than fifteen minutes for Combeferre to fall asleep, too, and two hours of writing angry comments on articles on the internet later, Enjolras eventually admitted defeat and carefully put his laptop on his nightstand.

He knew perfectly well that he couldn’t sleep now, at least not here, so he climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to the kitchen to finally find himself something to eat.

Cereal was his first choice, but for some reason they didn’t have any milk, so he started rummaging through the fridge and came across a carton of eggs. He could do scrambled eggs. Or at least so he thought.

He was still busy fishing pieces of egg shell out of the pan when Grantaire came walking into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making scrambled eggs,” Enjolras said lowly.

“That’s not what it looks like,” Grantaire muttered as he stepped up next to him.

“Well, too bad,” Enjolras grumbled and stabbed at the raw eggs.

“Hey, no need to hurt the poor eggs.” Grantaire put his hand on Enjolras’ back and peered into the pan. “Just scrambled eggs, nothing else?”

For a couple of seconds, Enjolras was a little too preoccupied with the fact that Grantaire’s hand was still resting on the small of his back, but eventually managed to answer. “We don’t really have a lot to choose from,” he mumbled.

Grantaire hummed and gently pushed Enjolras out of the way.

“Maybe some toast,” Grantaire said, more to himself than to Enjolras, who could do nothing but watch while Grantaire cooked him the best scrambled eggs he’d ever had in his whole life.

When Enjolras went back to his room later on, Combeferre had apparently migrated back to his own bed, and when he walked into the kitchen in the morning, Grantaire was there, shirtless as always, whistling while he was making waffles. Apparently he’d somehow find the time to buy groceries, because there was milk in their fridge now.

Enjolras busied himself with making coffee and when Combeferre joined them a while later, Enjolras didn’t run off to his room, but sat down at the kitchen table with his friends. For some reason, it wasn’t even as unpleasant as he’d thought it would be.

* * *

Enjolras let out a happy sigh as he unlocked the door to his and Combeferre’s apartment. He’d finished his study session with Courfeyrac earlier than expected and was now looking forward to a relaxed evening on his couch.

Maybe he’d go through some notes, maybe he’d do some research, maybe he’d just enjoy the silence, because Combeferre was staying at Grantaire’s place for once, which meant that Enjolras wouldn’t be annoyed by loud laughter or moans or the general presence of other people.

When he walked inside, though, he did hear something that sounded suspiciously like a moan – which was a little strange, since no one was supposed to be here.

Enjolras pushed the door shut as quietly as he could and slowly padded down the hall to the wide open living room door, peering inside.

That, as it turned out, had been a huge mistake.

Combeferre certainly wasn’t at Grantaire’s. Grantaire wasn’t at his own place either, for that matter. They were both on the couch, Grantaire straddling Combeferre’s hips, both of them shirtless. One of their shirts had been slung over the back of the couch, the other one was nowhere to be seen. Grantaire was also missing his jeans – those were on the floor next to the coffee table.

Enjolras watched as Combeferre’s fingers wandered down Grantaire’s bare back, toying with the waistband of his boxers before letting his fingers slip underneath it. Grantaire let out a drawn-out groan, rocking his hips against Combeferre, who gasped in turn.

Enjolras could feel his cheek flush and let out a squeak. Which they’d most definitely heard. _Fantastic_.

Grantaire looked up, his eyes wide, apparently trying to get off Combeferre as quickly as he could, tripping and face-planting on the floor in the process.

Enjolras decided that now would be a good time to make a quick escape and retreated to his room, locking the door as soon as he’d slammed it shut.

This was so, so bad. He’d found Combeferre and Grantaire making out on several surfaces in the apartment, but they’d never been quite so skimpily dressed and so close to actually having sex on their goddamned living room couch.

They could do whatever they wanted in Combeferre’s room, because that was really none of Enjolras’ business, but not in their living room for crying out loud.

Up until now, things had gone splendidly for _weeks_. He’d even spent some time with Grantaire and Combeferre and it hadn’t been as agonizing as Enjolras had expected it to be. They’d had fun and the two of them had never made him feel like a third wheel and Enjolras had been doing just fine being their friend. At least most of the time.

But seeing them together like this had just brought back that same gnawing feeling that Enjolras had always got when Grantaire and Combeferre had first got together. And even though Enjolras wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to be feeling right now, he knew for sure that he definitely shouldn’t find it _hot_.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre called from outside the door.

He definitely couldn’t talk to anyone right now. Enjolras took a deep breath and didn’t say a word.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said again. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Enjolras called. Quite frankly, he was hoping that Combeferre would just leave him alone, but Combeferre knew him well enough to figure out that he was lying.

“Can I come in?”

“Seriously, it’s okay.”

Combeferre made an attempt at opening his door, something he’d never do if he wasn’t genuinely worried.

“Enjolras, we’re really sorry,” Grantaire piped up. “But we’re dressed now, both of us and we didn’t…”

“We didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Combeferre finished.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, knowing full well that no one could see him. It still made him feel a little better for some reason.

“Enjolras, come on, talk to me.”

That was exactly what Enjolras certainly wouldn’t be doing, so he simply picked up his laptop. He’d find something to do, he was sure.

Enjolras could hear Grantaire and Combeferre mumble outside his door.

“We’ll be in the kitchen making dinner,” Combeferre said, barely loud enough for Enjolras to hear. “Join us if you get hungry.”

Enjolras let out an annoyed huff and started working. He was only able to concentrate for a couple of minutes until his mind started wandering.

He didn’t want Combeferre to think that he was angry, he really wasn’t, he just knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to look him or Grantaire in the eye right now. Of course it was partly their fault, but it was his own problem that he still hadn’t managed to get over this… whatever it was.

Enjolras was well aware that this really wasn’t the best way to deal with this situation, but he also wasn’t quite sure what else to do.

In any case, he couldn’t keep hiding in his room. And he really was starting to get hungry.

Enjolras went to unlock his door and opened it slowly, hearing Combeferre and Grantaire talking quietly down the hall in the kitchen.

He took a deep breath and went to join them, both of them falling silent as soon as Enjolras entered.

“You weren’t even supposed to be here,” Enjolras grumbled and went to take a look at what Grantaire and Combeferre had cooked for dinner.

“Help yourself to some stir fry,” Combeferre said cheerfully. “And if I remember correctly, you were supposed to be at the library with Courfeyrac.”

“I left early,” Enjolras muttered and shoveled some food onto his plate before he joined Grantaire and Combeferre at the kitchen table.

“We’ll never make out on the couch again,” Grantaire said, smirking. “Promise.”

Enjolras only gave him a withering look.

“And I’m very sorry if you’re traumatized now,” Grantaire went on, suddenly looking strangely serious. “We weren’t really planning on that to happen, we just got a little…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Carried away,” Combeferre said.

Enjolras had no idea when they’d started finishing each other’s sentences so frequently, but it was a little unsettling.

And now they were apparently engaged in a silent conversation that they didn’t want to let Enjolras in on, because they kept shooting each other looks and Grantaire tried to kick Combeferre under the table – _tried_ because he ended up hitting Enjolras.

“Ouch, what was that for?” Enjolras asked, rubbing his shin.

Combeferre sighed and gave Grantaire a look, in response to which Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“I can leave, you know?” Enjolras said lowly.

“No,” Grantaire said quickly. “Combeferre wanted to ask you something.”

“Actually,” Combeferre said, leaning forward, “ _we_ wanted to ask you something.”

Enjolras frowned. He had no idea what on earth they wanted to ask him, but he had a feeling that he probably wouldn’t like it. He looked from Combeferre to Grantaire, who seemed nervous for some reason, back to Combeferre, who took off his glasses with a sigh, same as he always did when he was annoyed for some reason.

Needless to say, Enjolras had no idea what he’d done to annoy Combeferre or what he and Grantaire wanted to ask him.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Look, Grantaire and I were thinking…” He trailed off, glancing at Grantaire, who nodded. “There is something we’ve been considering for a while now and we wanted to ask you how you would feel about it.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said. He understood now. And he wasn’t upset, definitely not. “Do you want to move out?” he asked Combeferre.

Or maybe Grantaire wanted to move in. Which meant that Enjolras would have to move out.

“What?” Combeferre blinked at him. He quickly put his glasses back on. “No, that’s not it,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s just that we’ve been hanging out a lot lately,” Grantaire threw in, leaning a little closer.

“And you don’t want that anymore?” Enjolras guessed before Grantaire could continue.

“ _No_ ,” Grantaire said loudly. He turned to Combeferre. “See, I told you that you should do the talking, I’m just going to fuck this up.”

Combeferre cleared his throat. “This might seem a little strange to you, but we were actually wondering if you might want to go out with us sometime? On a date, that is.”

“You can think about it,” Grantaire said quickly, “really, take your time.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure which one of them to look at, how to figure out whether or not this was some kind of elaborate joke, it was just that they were both looking so serious, expectant even, so it apparently wasn’t a joke at all.

That Combeferre would never deliberately joke about anything like this didn’t exactly occur to him right about now.

“You want to go out with me,” Enjolras repeated slowly. Just to make sure that he’d got this right. “On a _date_?”

“We realize that this is somewhat…” Combeferre paused. “Unusual.”

“But we figured we might as well ask,” Grantaire added.

“Obviously we don’t want to assume anything, we just both thought you might be interested,” Combeferre said. “As Grantaire already said, we don’t expect an answer right now, it’s just that we realized that there’d never be a good time to bring it up, so we thought we might as well do it now.”

Honestly, it was hard to render Enjolras speechless, but Combeferre and Grantaire had definitely managed just that.

“We really didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Combeferre went on.

“When…” Enjolras cleared his throat. All of this was going way over his head. “When do you want to go out?”

“Whenever you want,” Grantaire said, looking almost _hopeful_. “You can pick a restaurant, or maybe we can go eat crepes, Combeferre said you like crepes, or maybe we can just watch a movie, or…”

“What Grantaire is trying to say is that we’re leaving this completely up to you,” Combeferre said. “Whatever it is you decide.”

Enjolras was inclined to say yes to all of the above, but between the moments in which he’d wondered what kissing Combeferre would feel like and wished he could wrap his arms around Grantaire and rest his chin on the top of his head and thought about how nice it would be to fall asleep with both of them curled around him, he hadn’t thought that this was ever going to happen. Not even for a second.

“I need to think about this,” Enjolras said. “Can I just…?” He stood up, walking towards the doorway. “I need a minute,” he muttered, even though he probably needed a lot more time to wrap his head around what Combeferre and Grantaire had just suggested.

“Of course,” Combeferre said, smiling softly. “I can stay at Grantaire’s tonight, so you can–”

“You two can stay here, really. I’ll be in my room.” Enjolras smiled tentatively and then darted off to his room, because he felt like he was about to hyperventilate.

He took a deep breath as he closed the door to his room and then called Courfeyrac. It really felt like the only reasonable thing to do.

Courfeyrac answered his phone almost instantly. “Please tell me this has nothing to do with studying and everything to do with partying.”

“Combeferre and Grantaire want to go out with me,” Enjolras said, keeping his voice low. 

“Oh, where are you guys going? Maybe I could meet you there so you don’t have to wallow in self-pity for hours,” Courfeyrac said.

Enjolras started to pace up and down the length of his room. “No, you misunderstood .They want to _go out with me_.”

Courfeyrac made a choking sound and then started coughing. “What? Both of them? At the same time? Like a Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta sort of thing?”

“I suppose that’s the idea,” Enjolras whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Courfeyrac asked. “Are they still there? Enjolras, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m honestly not so sure,” Enjolras said. He sighed deeply. “I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Always am,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully.

“Do you think this could work out? Me and them?”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to go out with them,” Courfeyrac said. “I know you do.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Enjolras grumbled.

“Well,” Courfeyrac said, “it’s definitely working for Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, so why shouldn’t it work for the three of you?”

“Because it’s not the same thing,” Enjolras said, his tone verging on annoyed.

“Well, why don’t you talk to _them_ about this?” Courfeyrac asked.

“I can hardly go over there and say _hey guys, who exactly is this thing supposed to work_ , right?”

“No, that’s exactly what you need to do,” Courfeyrac replied. “And afterwards you need to call me and tell me how it went, because this is pretty much the most exciting thing ever since Marius went out on his first date Cosette.”

“This isn’t helping,” Enjolras said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?” Courfeyrac asked, his tone suggestive. Enjolras could almost see him wiggling his eyebrows.

“Because I’m going to go talk to them,” Enjolras said. He quickly said goodbye and sat down on his bed for a couple of minutes, trying to somehow make sense of his thoughts. Eventually he gave up, realizing that Courfeyrac was right, that he really needed to talk to Combeferre and Grantaire about this, and snuck back down the hall.

Combeferre and Grantaire were in the living room, lounging on the couch, Grantaire with his head pillowed in Combeferre’s lap, his eyes closed and a small smile playing around his lips. His eyes fluttered open when Enjolras stepped inside.

“Hey there,” Grantaire said as he sat up.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Enjolras asked bluntly. There was really now way to sugarcoat it – he wanted this, but he did have his doubts.

“It might not be easy at times,” Combeferre allowed. “But we do want you to be part of this relationship and we wouldn’t have asked you to go out with us if we didn’t have reason to believe that there might be a chance that you want this, too.”

“I do,” Enjolras said and both Combeferre and Grantaire smiled at that. “I’m just not so sure how exactly this is going to go.”

“Well, we thought we could talk about this during dinner,” Grantaire said, smirking now. “I’ll pay. Or Combeferre will pay. Anyway, you’re invited.” He scooted over on the couch, leaving a little space between himself and Combeferre. “Come sit down?”

Enjolras did, still feeling tense. Combeferre and Grantaire could probably both tell how uncomfortable he was.

“Neither of us has done this before,” Grantaire said, “it’s not like we know what we’re doing. I guess we’ll figure it out at some point.”

Enjolras hummed thoughtfully, glancing at Combeferre – he was usually the first one Enjolras would go to for advice.

“We can take things slow,” Combeferre said, smiling faintly. “Believe me, we’re not expecting this to work out overnight.”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Maybe we could try the Mexican place that opened across the street from the Musain. On Friday?”

“Friday is good,” Grantaire said, bumping his shoulder against Enjolras’.

Combeferre nodded. “I agree, Friday should work.”

“Okay,” Enjolras whispered, slowly leaning back against the cushions with a smile.

* * *

Enjolras stared into his closet, a frown on his face. This was plain ridiculous. Sure, he was going out on a date with Combeferre and Grantaire and if he could trust Courfeyrac on this, it was perfectly normal to be nervous.

Still, they were _Combeferre and Grantaire_. He’d seen both of them every day this week, yesterday they’d watched a movie together, the day before they’d had breakfast together, so technically this wasn’t even their first date. There was absolutely no reason for him to stand frozen in front of his closet, wondering what the hell he should wear.

It wasn’t important in anyway, but if he stopped staring at his shirts he might start thinking about how dinner was going to go and that really wasn’t any better.

Enjolras had no idea what to expect – Grantaire and Combeferre had both been trying to keep a respectful distance ever since they’d asked him out, but Enjolras kept catching himself thinking about them, frequently wondering what would happen if they kissed. He wasn’t even sure which one of the two he was supposed to kiss first.

“Enjolras, are you ready to go?” Combeferre called from across the hall, effectively interrupting his train of thought. “Grantaire just texted me, he’ll meet us at the restaurant.”

“Just a second…” Enjolras grabbed a random pair of jeans and one of his favorite shirts, then he pulled on his red jacket and walked over to the door, finding Combeferre waiting for him in the hallway. He was wearing the cardigan he usually reserved for family dinners and smiled when Enjolras came stumbling out of his room.

“You look nice,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Ready?”

“Not really,” Enjolras said, managing a feeble smile.

“You’re not the only one who’s nervous, believe me,” Combeferre said. He hesitated for a second, then the held out his hand.

Enjolras, equally reluctant, took it and let Combeferre lead him to the door, where he had to let go again so he could put on his shoes. Once they were out the door, Enjolras didn’t hesitate and reached for Combeferre’s hand again as if the was the most natural thing in the world – which it was, in a way.

They didn’t talk much. Usually Combeferre would tell him about some research paper he’d found, Enjolras would talk about his classes, but now they walked in silence, Enjolras glancing over at Combeferre every now and again.

Grantaire was already waiting for them outside the restaurant, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. Enjolras couldn’t help but notice that he’d shaved for the occasion.

“Hey there,” Grantaire said, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Combeferre on the cheek, then he turned to Enjolras, obviously not sure what to do. He ended up giving him a slightly awkward pat on the shoulder.

Combeferre laughed quietly, which earned him a dirty look from Grantaire. “Let’s get something to eat,” Combeferre said, gently pushing both of them inside the restaurant.

They took a seat at a small table in the back, all three of them silent as they studied the menu.

They ended up sharing an appetizer, Grantaire told them about an assignment he had to do for his photography class, Combeferre talked about a documentary he’d recorded the other day, Enjolras listened, trying to keep from fidgeting too much.

“Maybe we can watch that documentary later,” Grantaire was saying, winking at Combeferre.

“I know exactly what happens when I try to watch a documentary with you,” Combeferre muttered. He took a sip of his water and turned to Enjolras. “But if you don’t mind, we can watch it.”

Enjolras blinked at him, belatedly realizing that an answer was expected of him.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said before he could reply, “you need to take a deep breath. Relax, this isn’t…” He shook his head. “Just chill, okay?”

“I’m trying,” Enjolras grit out. “But you two are used to this and I’m really not.” He’d never gone out on a date with anyone before and he was a tad scared that he would end up messing this up. “I just don’t want to do anything wrong.”

“There’s nothing you could possibly do wrong,” Combeferre said, smiling gently.

“Yeah, I mean, we know you,” Grantaire added.

Enjolras wasn’t sure whether or not that was actually a good thing.

“Look,” Combeferre said, “if there’s ever anything you want to talk about, just let us know.”

Frankly, there were many things that Enjolras wanted to talk about, but not necessarily in a public setting and not necessarily right now. “Maybe later?”

“Of course,” Combeferre said.

They soon fell silent again because their waiter brought their food and their conversation was only made up of _do you want to try this_ and _have some of that_ and Enjolras slowly but surely found himself relaxing.

They only got into a bit of a squabble when Grantaire insisted on paying until Enjolras and Combeferre eventually relented. “So,” Grantaire said, grinning at them, “can I walk the two of you home?”

Combeferre gave Enjolras a look. _It’s up to you_ , it said.

“Sure,” Enjolras said. “There’s a documentary you two wanted to watch, right?”

Grantaire snorted. “I feel like I should tell you that we’ve never actually made it through a whole documentary without…” He cleared his throat. “Without getting distracted.”

“Maybe we’ll manage today,” Combeferre said and stood up slowly.

Enjolras laughed nervously as he followed Combeferre outside, Grantaire trailing right behind them.

“Just so we’re clear, though,” Grantaire said, “it’s not like we’re planning on anything to happen, like, we’re fine with just sitting there and actually watching the documentary. That’s totally fine.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said, barely able to hold back a smile. Without even thinking about it, he reached out to take Grantaire’s hand, freezing when he realized what he’d just done. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“I don’t mind,” Grantaire said. He took Combeferre by the hand, then he reached for Enjolras’ hand, tugging both of them down the street. “I have to admit that this is a bit weird.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” Combeferre mused.

Grantaire snorted. “Oh, definitely.” He squeezed Enjolras’ hand. “It’s not so bad.”

Half an hour later they’d all piled onto Enjolras and Combeferre’s couch, sharing some popcorn, watching the documentary Combeferre had recorded.

Enjolras really didn’t have it in him to actually pay attention, because Grantaire and Combeferre were right next to him, a lot closer than usual, and Enjolras had to try his hardest not to lean against either of them – as much as he wanted to.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said after a while, “you seem tense.”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, I’m not, everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Grantaire asked. He didn’t sound too convinced.

“You could come a little closer,” Enjolras whispered. “Both of you. If you want.”

Grantaire moved almost instantly and leaned closer, his head leaning against Enjolras’ shoulder now, and Combeferre put an arm around him. “How is that?” he asked.

“Much better.” Things were decidedly less awkward now, but Enjolras’ mind still refused to keep quiet. Eventually he just gave up. “Can I ask you a question?”

Combeferre grabbed the remote and hit pause. “Of course.”

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” Enjolras said lowly, “I was just wondering, hypothetically, if we were going to kiss, how exactly would that work?”

“You were thinking about kissing us?” Grantaire asked, smirking. “Interesting.”

Enjolras pursed his lips.

Combeferre, the traitor, actually grinned. “I suppose one of us would have to go first.”

“We’ll flip a coin,” Grantaire said, looking way too smug.

“Or maybe I’ll just let Grantaire go first,” Combeferre said, his voice soft.

Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire, who blew Combeferre a kiss. He didn’t want to rush things, but the thought of kissing Grantaire – and Combeferre, for that matter – had been on his mind for much too long.

Grantaire’s eyes went wide. “Now?”

“Now would be fine with me,” Enjolras said. “Or any other time.”

“Okay,” Grantaire muttered, briefly glancing at Combeferre before he moved closer. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing along Enjolras’ cheekbone.

Enjolras stayed very still, his eyes never leaving Grantaire’s, only fluttering shut when their lips brushed, lingering for a much too short time. When Grantaire pulled away again he was smiling broadly.

Enjolras smiled back at him and then turned around to face Combeferre, who had the strangest expression on his face. He almost looked fond.

Combeferre’s kiss was a little more languid, a little deeper and Enjolras was feeling strangely light-headed when they pulled apart. Enjolras stayed curled up around Combeferre, who reached around him and tugged Grantaire closer as well.

* * *

“We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Are you sure about this?” Enjolras asked. Because he wasn’t sure about this. Not in the slightest.

Combeferre put an arm around him. “Enjolras, if you don’t want to–”

“No, I do,” Enjolras protested. “I’ve just never done this before.”

“I’ll try not to hit you in the face, I promise,” Grantaire said cheerfully, slowly pushing him over to his bed.

They’d decided to spend the evening at Grantaire’s place for once. He lived right around the corner from the Musain and they’d walked over after their meeting there.

Obviously their friends had noticed that the three of them were going out, but now it was hardly news anymore. Enjolras was used to Combeferre taking his hand under the table by now and he was used to Grantaire bumping his foot against his with a smug grin. Still, Enjolras tried his hardest not to get distracted by his two boyfriends during their meetings, but sometimes he just didn’t manage.

Enjolras had actually meant to talk some things over with Combeferre and Courfeyrac after their meeting today, but Courfeyrac had made up some random excuse for why he couldn’t stay and then Combeferre had kissed him and Grantaire had wrapped his arms around him and had mumbled something about hot chocolate and that had been that.

Grantaire had also convinced them to stay the night and they’d decided that the best thing would be for them to share the bed. Enjolras’ problem was that Grantaire’s bed was even smaller than his own and he’d never actually had to share his bed with anyone, except for the one time when Courfeyrac had passed out on him after a party.

“You can sleep in the middle,” Grantaire went on, nudging him gently before he crawled into bed.

Enjolras followed him with a sigh, scooting into the middle to leave some room for Combeferre, who switched off the lights and slipped into bed with them only a couple of seconds later, tucking the sheets around them.

“Everyone comfortable?” Grantaire asked, snuggling a few inches closer to Enjolras.

Combeferre wrapped an arm around him from behind, slowly nosing along the back of his neck.

 “Actually, yes,” Enjolras replied.

 “Don’t sound so surprised,” Grantaire grumbled, his arm joining Combeferre’s. He ended up with his head tucked under Enjolras’ chin, kissing his neck. 

Enjolras let out a low whimper, biting his lip to keep himself quiet.

“Are you two going to keep me up all night?” Combeferre asked, sounding vaguely amused.

“Maybe,” Grantaire whispered, nudging Enjolras. “Give Combeferre a kiss from me, yeah?”

Enjolras complied and ended up pressing a clumsy kiss to Combeferre’s jaw, smiling when Combeferre kissed him in return.

“Okay,” Combeferre said and tugged at the duvet. “Go to sleep. Both of you.”

Grantaire let out a low grumble, but didn’t do anything other than nuzzle into Enjolras’ hair.

Enjolras let out a happy sigh, soon drifting off to sleep, sandwiched between Combeferre and Grantaire, feeling comfortably warm and perfectly content.

He woke up again sometime early, far too early, in the morning – Combeferre’s arm was still draped around him, but Grantaire was gone.

Enjolras blinked rapidly, looking at Combeferre’s outline next to him on the mattress. He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to figure out where Grantaire had disappeared to. His side of the bed was cold and the lights were out in the hallway, so he probably hadn’t just gone to be bathroom real quick.

Combeferre stirred. “Enj’lras?”

“Grantaire isn’t here,” Enjolras said lowly. Which was definitely strange because they were at Grantaire’s place.

Combeferre hummed. “He probably got up already.”

“Oh?” Grantaire had never struck him as someone who particularly liked getting up at the crack of dawn.

“Yeah, that happens. He often gets up early,” Combeferre mumbled, switching on the bedside lamp. It was just past five in the morning. Combeferre rubbed his eyes. “Sometimes he doesn’t sleep that well. I suppose he’s in the living room.”

“Should we check on him?” Enjolras asked.

“He usually just tells me to go back to bed,” Combeferre replied with a small smile. “But I can go check on him.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll go,” Enjolras said. He knew that Combeferre had an early morning lecture and a day at the hospital ahead of him. He needed all the sleep he could get.

Enjolras slowly ran his fingers through Combeferre’s hair, still feeling strangely excited because he really was allowed to do this now, and Combeferre smiled faintly, his eyes already closed again.

After watching him for a couple of seconds, Enjolras slipped out of bed and padded down the cramped hallway to the living room, where Enjolras found Grantaire sitting in front of an easel, painting. He didn’t even notice Enjolras until he stepped inside, the floorboards creaking under his bare feet.

Grantaire looked around, obviously surprised. “What are you doing up?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I just wanted to see if you were alright,” Enjolras said. He took a few steps closer. “Are you?”

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, sometimes I just wake up ridiculously early. Sorry, I probably should have told you. You can go back to bed, I’m alright.”

Enjolras only shrugged. He was awake, he didn’t see any point in going back to bed now.

“Breakfast, then?” Grantaire asked. He put down his paintbrush with a grin. “How do you feel about… I don’t know, I don’t think I have a lot of food in my fridge.”

“You can finish your painting,” Enjolras said. Really, he wouldn’t mind watching Grantaire for a while. He’d watched him draw sketches before and he was still baffled, to be quite honest.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be done in time for breakfast,” Grantaire said, smirking. “Maybe breakfast a couple of days or weeks from now, but definitely not today.”

Enjolras then let Grantaire lead him into the kitchen, watching as he rummaged through the fridge, humming under his breath as he pulled out an egg carton. “Do you like waffles?”

“Waffles sound good,” Enjolras said, hopping up onto the counter, his feet dangling in the air. He’d had some of Grantaire’s waffles when he’d made them at their apartment a couple of weeks ago and they had been delicious.

“You know, I was going to ask you if you wanted to help, but you look pretty comfortable right there,” Grantaire mused and got out his waffle iron.

“My feet were cold,” Enjolras mumbled, “but I can help.”

“Nah, it’s not that complicated,” Grantaire said and got started on the batter and made some coffee.

Enjolras was soon starting to feel like he should probably say something to Grantaire, have some kind of conversation, but he just poured himself a cup of coffee instead.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows at him. “I’m honestly not so sure why you’re making the face that you’re making.”

“It’s just weird,” Enjolras mumbled, “because usually it’s always the three of us, you know, you and me and Combeferre.”

“You live with Combeferre,” Grantaire said dryly, “it’s not _always_ the three of us.”

“Right, so it’s never just the two of us.” Enjolras shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was trying to say. It did feel strange to him that he spent so much time with Combeferre and that Grantaire had spent so much time with Combeferre, but never with him.

Grantaire took a step closer, strangely reluctant. “Well,” he said, “we’ve already established that the two of you are allowed to do whatever you want even when I’m not there, so I think it’s only fair that we’re allowed the same thing. We can never all be in the same place at the same time.”

“You’re not wrong,” Enjolras said, smiling when Grantaire pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Look,” Grantaire muttered, his arms slowly sneaking around Enjolras’ waist, “I’m pretty sure that things are going to be a little awkward for a while, but we’re totally getting the hang of this, don’t you think?”

“I think we might need to buy a bigger bed, though,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire laughed. “That’s actually not such a bad idea.” He tilted his head and gave Enjolras another kiss, then another, then Enjolras’ fingers found their way into his hair, pulling him closer, whimpering when Grantaire nipped at his bottom lip.

When Grantaire eventually pulled away, Enjolras was panting. “You know, I never thought you actually liked me,” he said. He could probably blame that on the lack of oxygen.

“How the hell…” Grantaire trailed off, wrinkling his nose. “Waffles,” he muttered and quickly darted over to the waffle iron, but soon turned back to face Enjolras. “You thought I didn’t like you?”

“Well, you were never particularly nice to me,” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “You were never particularly nice to me either.”

“But I didn’t actually mean it,” Enjolras protested.

“Oh, and you think I actually did?” Grantaire asked. “Dude, I was so in love with you. Seriously, when I first saw you in freshman year… remember when you tried staging a protest on your first day, I…” He shook his head. “Anyway, I thought I was over you and then Combeferre happened and things were fine, things were great, actually, marvelous, and then you came back into the picture.”

“But Combeferre…”

“Luckily,” Grantaire said, his lips twitching into a smile, “Combeferre felt the same way about you as I did in the end.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile. He reached out to pull Grantaire back over to him and he came stumbling over, laughing quietly.

“I’m glad you two are having so much fun this early in the morning,” Combeferre said hoarsely as he came trudging into the kitchen.

Enjolras wordlessly handed him his cup of coffee.

-

“…can’t believe you’d think this is in any way acceptable. It’s bad enough that you’re one of those homosexuals, but you cannot possibly think that…” His mother sucked in a sharp breath. “Two of them, François, two? Think of your reputation, think of your _father’s_ reputation, for Christ’s sake. What if people find out? It’s frivolous, it’s just plain wrong, you’re obviously not thinking straight…”

Enjolras sighed. He could always hang up on her. It’s what he should have done roughly ten minutes ago. Maybe he shouldn’t have answered the phone in the first place.

His mother had called about some reception she’d wanted Enjolras to attend and she’d been pestering him about bringing a date – a _female_ date, she’d stressed – and had annoyed him to no end, so he’d told her that he’d happily bring his two boyfriends, but that was really all he could offer her.

Obviously she’d been scandalized and had started yelling and it didn’t seem like she was going to stop any time soon.

Hanging up really was his only feasible option. “Mother,” he tried once again.

Much to his surprise, she paused. But just for a second. “You’re going to break up with them. _Both_ of them.”

Enjolras hit _end call_ without a second thought. He was pretty sure that that was answer enough for her. His phone started ringing about ten seconds after he’d hung up, but he didn’t answer, put it on silent mode and started turned his attention back to the paper he had started working before she’d called, tapping the keys with a little too much force.

He heard the front door open about an hour later – it had to be Grantaire, because Combeferre was probably going to stay at the library until it closed.

Footsteps were approaching his room and then Grantaire peered inside through the crack that Enjolras had left open when he’d got back from his afternoon lecture.

“Hey,” Grantaire said quietly, stepping over to Enjolras’ desk. “You busy?”

Enjolras hummed. He didn’t feel like he could look at Grantaire right now. He’d see how upset he was and Enjolras didn’t want to explain, it’d just make him even angrier.

Grantaire kissed the top of his head, his fingers gently brushing over his cheek and Enjolras leaned into his touch. “I was going to make dinner, but Combeferre told me that he’s going to have dinner with Joly. Do you want something to eat?”

“That would be nice, yes,” Enjolras said, doing his best to keep his voice steady, neutral. He was pretty sure that Combeferre would be happy to eat the leftover when he got back.

“’Kay,” Grantaire muttered and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you alright? You seem tense.”

“Just a little stressed,” Enjolras replied, and it wasn’t even a lie. He tilted his head to give Grantaire a kiss in return, to reassure him, and Grantaire seemed to be satisfied then because he smiled and straightened up.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” Grantaire said and then left him to his paper.

Enjolras did his best to hide his foul mood during the next few days and when Grantaire or Combeferre asked if something was wrong, Enjolras always told them that he was stressed because he had so many assignments to finish before the end of the semester and because he also had exams to study for.

They seemed to believe him – or at least so he thought.

He should have known that Combeferre would see right through him, he should have realized that Grantaire knew him well enough by now and could tell the difference between stress and irritation.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said when they’d slipped into bed on Saturday night, “are you sure you don’t want to tell us what’s going on?”

Grantaire was still standing by the door, plugging in his phone. He looked up when Combeferre spoke and he didn’t seem to be surprised about him bringing it up at all.

Enjolras waited until he’d joined them in bed as well, let Combeferre tuck them all in, then he sighed. “My mother called the other day,” he muttered.

“Oh,” Combeferre said. He’d met her, he knew what she was like.

“Oh?” Grantaire asked.

“She was being obnoxious and I got annoyed, so I told her about us,” Enjolras grumbled. “She told me to break up with you. Both of you. Not that I ever would, but why does she even think that I’d listen to her? I mean, she can’t honestly believe that I would break up with you just because she’s worried about my father’s reputation.”

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Combeferre asked. He put an arm around Enjolras.

Enjolras only shrugged. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to bother them with his problems, maybe it had felt like an incredibly ridiculous thing to bring up during dinner.

“No offense, but your parents sound like dicks,” Grantaire mumbled. He cuddled against him, his eyes closed. He’d had a long day – he’d covered Jehan’s shift at the Musain, then he’d worked his own, afterwards he’d done his best to stay up through a movie, and now he was obviously knackered.

“Well, they certainly aren’t the most pleasant of people,” Enjolras said, slowly running his fingers through Grantaire’s unruly curls. He’d had them cut not too long ago, but they still looked as messy as ever.

“This is obviously a difficult situation,” Combeferre said thoughtfully.

“It’s really not,” Enjolras protested. “I’m definitely not going to break up with you and if they don’t like that I have two boyfriends then that’s their problem.”

Grantaire laughed quietly, his fingers curling into the fabric of Enjolras’ shirt. He was obviously on a good way to being sound asleep. “Hm… love you.”

For a moment Enjolras was too startled to reply. They’d certainly started being very affectionate with each other, all three of them, and Enjolras was so used to having the two of them around, was used to Combeferre kissing him in the morning even when Grantaire wasn’t there and Grantaire kissing him to say hello whenever Enjolras came to the Musain to get some coffee, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting this.

“I love you, too,” Combeferre muttered without batting an eye and turned to switch off the bedside lamp. “Both of you.” He inched a little closer. “No expectations, just relax,” he whispered to Enjolras. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” Enjolras said, feeling both relieved and incredibly lucky to be allowed to be with these two.

* * *

Enjolras was in a particularly good mood when he unlocked the door to Grantaire’s apartment – Grantaire had given him and Combeferre a key each the week before, but Enjolras had been too busy studying for his exams to be excited about it.

Now he was done with all of them and only had one paper left to finish, which he was way ahead on, so he deserved an evening off.

He knew that Combeferre still had an exam next week, but he probably wouldn’t mind a study break, and Grantaire had handed in all of his art assignments, which meant that he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to spending the evening on the couch with them.

Enjolras put down his bag by the door and toed off his shoes. The lights were on in the kitchen and in the living room, so he figured that Grantaire was making dinner, even though it was a little too early for that, and that Combeferre was studying, but when Enjolras peered into the kitchen he found both of them there.

Combeferre had backed Grantaire against the counter and was kissing him gently, Grantaire’s arms were wrapped around him, keeping him close.

Leaning against the doorframe, Enjolras watched them, watched as their kisses grew more heated and Combeferre grabbed Grantaire by the hips to lift him up on the counter, Grantaire’s legs wrapping around him, a low moan escaping his lips when Combeferre started kissing down his neck.

Enjolras swallowed hard. He should probably tell them that he was here, but they were mesmerizing and Enjolras was frozen in place. What he was feeling was something totally different from the bursts of affection he felt when he saw the two of them cuddle or give each other a peck on the cheek.

Combeferre captured Grantaire’s lips again, his fingers sneaking under his shirt. Grantaire’s head fell back, exposing the line of his throat and Combeferre was back to sucking bruises into his skin. Enjolras drew in a sharp breath and the two of them immediately broke apart, looking at him with wide eyes.

Enjolras was actually a little disappointed that they’d stopped. He cleared his throat. “Hi…”

“Hello,” Combeferre said, fixing his glasses that had been askew on his nose.

“Sorry,” Grantaire muttered, but it almost sounded like a question, like he wasn’t sure whether or not an apology was necessary in this situation.

“I don’t mind,” Enjolras said. Combeferre and Grantaire could do whatever they pleased even when Enjolras wasn’t around, although they probably should have a conversation about this. “Can we talk?” he asked. “After dinner maybe?”

“We can talk right now,” Combeferre said. “I’m sorry if we–”

“Really,” Enjolras interrupted, smiling at him, “I didn’t mind.”

“Were you, um…” Grantaire scratched his head. “Were you watching?”

“For a while,” Enjolras replied. There was no point in lying, but he wished his cheeks didn’t feel like they were on fire.

“I think we should talk first,” Combeferre said. “We can order takeout later.”

They piled onto Grantaire’s leather couch, Enjolras feeling slightly embarrassed now, Grantaire apparently nervous as he kept tugging at the sleeves of his shirt.

“We probably should have brought this up much earlier,” Combeferre said, briefly glancing at Grantaire, who nodded. “We just thought we might give it some time, see how everything works out between the three of us and we weren’t sure whether or not you were ready. Obviously Grantaire and I have some history and we didn’t want things to be weird.”

“Did you…” Enjolras trailed off. “Since we got together, did you two ever…”

“We didn’t,” Grantaire said, quickly picking up on what he was trying to ask. “I mean, _before_ we did… but not since you joined us.”

“But you’d want to… sleep with me?” Enjolras said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

“If you want to,” Combeferre said, his expression as serious as if they were talking about a matter of life or death. “I didn’t want to push you.”

“And neither did I,” Grantaire threw in. “I mean, we’d obviously have to discuss the logistics of it and what’s okay with you and what isn’t, but…” He trailed off and shrugged.

“We really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable just now,” Combeferre said.

“I don’t think he was that uncomfortable,” Grantaire muttered, gently tugging Enjolras against his chest.

Enjolras smiled, shaking his head. “I really wasn’t.”

“Maybe that’s something we should talk about, too?” Combeferre asked, his lips twitching when Enjolras’ face turned even redder than it had been before. “Although I suppose we can postpone that talk.”

“Please,” Enjolras said, hiding his face in Grantaire’s shirt.

“Aw, no need to be embarrassed,” Grantaire said, twirling a stray curl around his finger. “I mean, it’s actually a compliment to us.”

Enjolras only let out a low grumble, hoping Grantaire would let it go soon.

* * *

Well, Grantaire did let it go then and there, but he certainly didn’t forget about it.

They did take things slow, though, and the first time the three of them had ended up in bed together naked and definitely on a good way to, well, _something_ , Grantaire had managed to sufficiently distract them when he’d fallen out of Combeferre’s much too small bed.

Their second try was certainly more successful.

The three of them had agreed that sex wasn’t a thing they could plan. It wasn’t the same as arranging a date and time for when they’d have dinner together or see a movie at the cinema. They’d talked about a couple of ground rules, but other than that they were going to wait for it to just happen at some point – “If Grantaire doesn’t keep falling out of bed,” Combeferre had remarked.

“Enjolras, have you seen my…” Grantaire trailed off, looking around Enjolras’ room.

He’d obviously just taken a shower and had lost his towel somewhere on the way from the bathroom to Enjolras’ bedroom. “Your what?” Enjolras asked. “Your clothes maybe?”

Grantaire grinned. “Actually my phone, but yeah, clothes…” He kept looking for his phone anyway, digging through the notes on Enjolras’ desk, giving Enjolras a pretty spectacular view of his bare ass.

Enjolras put his laptop down on the nightstand in favor of watching him, laughing when Combeferre appeared in the doorway, stopping dead when he saw Grantaire. “He’s looking for his phone,” Enjolras explained.

Grantaire looked around, smirking at Combeferre. “Have you seen it?”

Combeferre only raised his eyebrows, his eyes wandering down Grantaire’s chest, further down, lingering there for a second before they snapped back up to his face. “Did you lose your clothes, too?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and slowly walked over to him, standing on his tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Do you want to help me find them?”

Combeferre only glanced at Enjolras, who shrugged. He certainly didn’t mind Grantaire running around naked. He could definitely get used to that. Grantaire seemed to have noticed that he wasn’t exactly opposed, so he gave Combeferre’s hand a squeeze, then he joined Enjolras on the bed, flopping down next to him.

He tugged at the waistband of Enjolras’ sweatpants. “If I’m not putting on clothes, then you shouldn’t be wearing any either.” He kept his eyes fixed on Enjolras, gauging his reaction.

Enjolras wiggled out of his sweatpants, together with his boxers and let Grantaire help him tug off his shirt. The first time they’d done this Enjolras had felt self-conscious for a second, now it didn’t seem like such a big deal.

Combeferre was still standing at the end of the bed, watching them with a fond smile playing around his lips. He quickly got rid of his clothes as well, quite efficient about it, and settled on Grantaire’s left, slowly trailing his fingertips up his sides. Grantaire squirmed, still smiling when he gave Enjolras a kiss. After a while he turned his attention to Combeferre and yes, Enjolras did like watching them, he liked it a lot, but he still felt a little, well, useless.

“Guys,” he said quietly.

Grantaire turned around again, making a face. “I didn’t forget about you, I swear,” he said.

“No, it’s not…” Enjolras bit his lip. They hadn’t even got this far last time and he hadn’t really thought about how awkward this could actually be. “I just don’t really know what to do, is there anything I should–”

Enjolras didn’t get to finish because Grantaire had gripped him by the hips and switched places with him.

“How about you just let us take care of you this time,” Combeferre suggested.

“But aren’t we supposed to…” Enjolras trailed off, because he really had no concept of how this usually worked, but he was pretty sure that he was supposed to do something, too.

“ _Supposed to_ doesn’t really work here,” Combeferre said, almost sounding stern. “It’s not like there are rules. Other than what we’ve discussed, obviously.”

“Yeah, we don’t mind concentrating on you for now,” Grantaire said, smirking at him as he sat up. “What do you say?” He settled between his legs, winking at Combeferre before he looked back at Enjolras, never diverting his glance as he lowered himself down until his lips were only inches from his cock. “Okay?” he asked when Enjolras only started at him.

Enjolras nodded. “Okay,” he whispered, his mouth dry.

He wanted to watch Grantaire, but he didn’t get to. Combeferre reached out, his fingers curling around his neck, pulling Enjolras into a kiss. His hand slowly wandered down his neck, pinched a nipple, making Enjolras gasp, further down and then Grantaire’s mouth was on his dick, gently kissing the tip.

Enjolras was dimly aware that Combeferre had a hand buried in Grantaire’s curls, so Enjolras clutched at the sheets, moaning when Grantaire swallowed him down.

Combeferre’s other hand fisted in Enjolras’ hair, tugging harshly and Enjolras was so, so glad that he’d mentioned that he liked this, even though it had involved a lot of blushing and stammering. It felt amazing, amazing enough for Enjolras not to care about the quite possibly obscene noises that were coming out of his mouth.

It was hard to concentrate on anything, really, with Combeferre kissing him, his neck, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, lightly biting at his nipples, and with Grantaire’s clever tongue making him writhe and buck his hips. Grantaire was quick to hold him down, pinning him to the bed.

Enjolras squirmed, but he could hardly move and it was all too much and at the same time it wasn’t enough. “Grantaire,” Enjolras whispered, “please…”

Grantaire looked up at him, his eyes dark. He hummed around Enjolras’ cock and Combeferre tugged at his hair one last time and Enjolras could barely utter a warning before he came with a drawn-out moan, half swallowed by Combeferre’s mouth on his.

Enjolras barely noticed when Grantaire came to lie down next to him again; he was still trying to catch his breath. He kept his eyes closed, smiling dopily when someone started petting his hair.

“Looks like someone enjoyed himself,” Grantaire mumbled, his lips briefly brushing against Enjolras’ temple.

Enjolras hummed in agreement, his eyes fluttering open.

“You okay?” Combeferre asked.

“Yeah,” Enjolras mumbled. He knew that now would certainly be a good time to reciprocate, but he felt boneless and was pretty much ready to fall asleep right here and now. “Just give me a minute…”

Combeferre only smiled and nodded, tugging the bedsheets around them as he always did when they went to bed and Enjolras wanted to tell him that it wasn’t time to sleep yet, but he was tired, so he only sighed contently when warmth enveloped him as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning he scolded them for letting him fall asleep, but they only shrugged it off, both of them giving him a gentle kiss.

* * *

Even though neither of them fell out of bed again after that one incident, Enjolras was still convinced that they needed a bigger one, because Grantaire had elbowed him in the ribs a few times too often, although Combeferre kept saying that it didn’t matter anyway because Enjolras wrapped himself around both of them so much that they never even got near the edge of the mattress.

Well, he wasn’t wrong, Enjolras did like cuddling up to them at night and he somehow even managed when he wasn’t the one sleeping in the middle. They’d decided to take turns, although it was mostly him and Grantaire. Once they’d let Combeferre have the middle when he’d got some bad news from home, other than that he kept insisting that he didn’t mind being on the outside.

Enjolras did love waking up with Combeferre and Grantaire on either side of him and was always a little disappointed when one of them had to leave early.

And Grantaire apparently felt the exact same way. “Combeferre, the semester has barely started,” Grantaire was saying one morning when Combeferre had decided to get up at seven. “Even the library is gonna judge you for being there.”

Combeferre laughed, but slipped out of bed anyway. He was completely naked and Enjolras couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy the sight.

Grantaire made a face and crawled down the length of the bed to pull Combeferre into a kiss. Combeferre let himself be distracted for a second, but pulled away much too soon, smiling.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Combeferre said and kissed Grantaire’s forehead.

“Enjolras wants you to stay,” Grantaire tried, reaching out to pull Combeferre back over to him, his fingers slowly creeping down his sides. Grantaire almost looked pale in contrast to Combeferre’s dark skin.

“And you don’t?” Combeferre teased.

“I thought it was obvious that I did,” Grantaire said, pulling him down for another kiss, a languid one this time, and for a while Enjolras really wasn’t sure what exactly Grantaire was trying to accomplish – if he wanted to convince Combeferre to stay or if he wanted to drive Enjolras out of his mind. If it was the latter, it was definitely working.

“You know, you only see Enjolras all the time, but not me, I think it’s only fair that you spend a little more time with us,” Grantaire mumbled against his lips. “I’m just saying, you two definitely have an advantage.”

“Maybe you should just move in, then,” Combeferre said lightly.

Enjolras smiled at the suggestion. Combeferre had brought it up not too long ago and Enjolras had liked the idea of having Grantaire around more, even if it meant that they’d probably also find more things to bicker about.

“Or better yet,” Combeferre went on, looking at Enjolras now, “maybe we should find an apartment that’s bigger than this one. Where each of us can have their own room.”

“I like that idea,” Enjolras said. “We could also get a bigger bed, then.”

“I honestly don’t know what your problem with this bed is,” Grantaire said, bouncing over to him with a grin on his face.

He lay back down, one leg hooked around Enjolras, his fingers slowly wandering up Enjolras’ thigh. “Come on, Combeferre, the library can wait.”

Combeferre let out a long-suffering sigh and sat back down. “I suppose it’ll still be there later.”

“Tomorrow,” Enjolras said, pulling him closer.

“ _Later_ ,” Combeferre said sternly.

Grantaire moved to straddle Combeferre’s hips. “No, tomorrow.”


End file.
